


Six Degrees of Separation

by starrika



Series: A SHIELD Family Tree [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Darcy Stark, Gen, in progress, plotbunny of doom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrika/pseuds/starrika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The obligatory Darcy-is-Tony's-kid-fic. Because finding secret love children post-alien crisis is always fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Six Degrees of Separation

Ten days after Manhattan was swarmed by aliens, Tony Stark showed up at her apartment.

“Um.”

“Darcy Lewis?”

Darcy nodded, for once speechless. _Tony Stark_ was standing at her door. He had his eyes narrowed, as if he were studying her, and that snapped her out of it.

“Dude. What the _fu_ \- I mean, can I help you?”

She had seen him on the news, when the whole alien invasion thing went down. Thor had been there. Last Darcy had heard from Jane, she was in Norway. Maybe Thor was trying to track Jane down, she decided. Although that didn’t explain why Tony Stark was standing at her doorstep, rather than one of those jackbooted thugs.

“Can I come in?” He was fidgeting, snapping his fingers and shifting from foot to foot, and even though he was shooting her a charming grin, Darcy thought he looked nervous.

“Yeah, sure,” she said with a shrug, stepping back from the door. “Do you want something to drink?”

“God, yes,” he replied, but then shot a glance at the clock on her wall. “Although probably not one of my best ideas,” he amended. He was still restless, moving about the room rather than taking a seat on her couch.

“Not that it isn’t cool to meet you, but uh, what are you doing here?” Darcy asked.

“You worked for Foster, right?”

Darcy nodded. He was trying to Jane, then. She hopped up to sit at one of the bar stools near the kitchen counter, swinging her legs. “Yeah, summer intern. She’s in Norway. Is Thor trying to find her? I’ve got her email.”

“Thor? What? Oh, that was in the file, wasn’t it,” Tony said, still pacing in her living room. “No, Thor’s back in Asgard. Not that I’m probably supposed to tell you that. Sorry, SHIELD,” he added, raising his voice a little.

“Wait - SHIELD has this place _bugged_?”

Tony shot her an irritated look. “Don’t play dumb.”

Darcy glared right back at him, but cut off her rant, settling instead for muttering ‘jackbooted thugs’ under her breath.

“So, anyway, I hacked SHIELD a week ago-”

“Wait, you _hacked_ SHIELD-”

“And I was killing some time earlier looking at everything they collected from last summer - does Foster seriously hold her equipment together with duct tape and rubber bands?”

“The point, any day now-”

“Anyway, they ran your DNA-”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious-”

“And, uh, it turns out you’re my kid. I’m pretty sure.”

“-- _What_?”

Darcy stopped kicking, and shut her mouth with an audible click. She half wondered if Stark had signed up to be the new host of Punk’d or something, because this was _ridiculous_.

“And, no offense, but I don’t remember your mother _at all_.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I’m adopted,” Darcy replied, rolling her eyes. Stark was still pacing and snapping his fingers in a manic matter. Despite the sarcasm and faces he was making, his body language screamed discomfort.

He whirled to look at her, eyes narrowing in thought. “Open or closed.”

“Closed. I went home from the hospital with my parents.”

“Huh.” Stark appeared truly at a loss for words. Darcy decided this probably wasn’t Punk’d. He looked too stunned for it to be an act.

“So I guess the massive trust fund _did_ come from dear old mom. That’s good to know,” Darcy commented.

“What?”

Darcy shrugged. “Paid for my college. Been getting payments since I turned twenty-one. We always thought she must have been some rich girl who got knocked up by the wrong type of guy. Probably a teenager or something.”

“Wait, how old are you again?”

“Twenty-five.”

Tony shook his head, eyes skyward as he appeared to be counting backwards. Finally giving up on that effort, he flipped out his phone. “Pep, you started working for me in what, ‘92? ‘93?”

Shaking his head again, Tony babbled a bit more, before cutting off the conversation quickly and turning back to Darcy. He looked focused and intense, less manic than before. “I think I’d like to see that adoption paperwork,” he said grimly.


End file.
